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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29714229">Introspection</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhineGold/pseuds/RhineGold'>RhineGold</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stargate Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Rape Aftermath, fragment, idea more than a complete story</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:08:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>397</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29714229</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhineGold/pseuds/RhineGold</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Camile knows she must begin the interview.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Introspection</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Though it is entirely unnecessary, Camile rearranges the papers on the desk. </p><p>He does not look at her, does not look anywhere but the surface of the table. His eyes hurt from a lack of blinking. He can see the words, printed in stark, even letters. She writes everything out by hand, which strikes him as wrong, as a waste of resources. He knows that once she preferred typewritten documents but that is even less practical now.</p><p>Across the table, the other occupant clears their throat, a gunshot in this silence, making Camile jump. He flinches even worse than she, hunkering down in his chair, arms pawing at his grubby jeans before he settles himself. </p><p>"We really should begin," Camile murmurs softly, in that formless, consonant-light way that is meant to sound gentle. </p><p>He looks up. Colonel Young's eyes are dark and deep and utterly unreadable. His brow is knit into a frown that makes him look sharper, colder. Rush drops his gaze to the tabletop once more. </p><p>'Statement of the Victim' the papers say. His eyes track loosely over the document, and the phrase 'sexual assault' is like a slap to the face. </p><p>Noticing the angle of his gaze, she hurriedly slaps a hand over the pages and the words disappear from view. </p><p>Across the table, the Colonel's stare is merciless. Rush feels pried apart and exposed. </p><p>"Doctor Rush..." She says and the pity is too much. </p><p>He stands abruptly, kicking over the chair, moving to the wall too quickly to be stopped. He kills the movement, coming to stand with one arm braced on the wall. His back is to them. He is exposed. But there is some comfort in the faint sheen of his reflection in the galvanized metal of the bulkhead. He can feel power thrumming beneath his arm where he presses his weight to the ship. </p><p>When he speaks, his voice is ragged, choked by his sudden acceleration in breath, and by the memory of the solid bulk of an arm pressing hard into his trachea. "...I was working..." He begins. </p><p>He can hear the lead of a pencil hitting the paper. Someone shifts and he knows it is Young from the rustle of the fabric. He doesn't have to turn around to see the eyes boring into him. </p><p>"I was working," He repeats, voice dulling, quieting. "...I never saw his face."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'd love to continue this, but I can never, for the life of me, decide who the rapist should even be, whoops.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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